


Choices

by Truth



Category: Berserk
Genre: M/M, Sex, Spoilers, reference to violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-03-25
Updated: 2004-03-25
Packaged: 2017-10-14 06:30:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Truth/pseuds/Truth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following your dreams is not always the wisest choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Choices

There wasn’t really anything to be said, despite Corkus’ outburst. Caska was fluttering in an entirely atypical fashion, and everyone else was standing around Griffith with mouths hanging open as Guts simply walked away.

Judeau wasn’t staring after the retreating man or down at the pale, shocked figure kneeling in the snow. He was concentrating instead on a flood of memories, wondering exactly how everything had suddenly come apart. Half an hour ago, it had all been so simple.

He couldn’t look down, couldn’t see the look of stunned, broken betrayal in Griffith’s eyes. He wouldn’t be able to bear it. Griffith was the sun, giving light and warmth and drawing everything into his orbit. Caska was the moon, keeping order and balance, reflecting just a little of Griffith’s light even as she herself stood in his shadow. But Guts….

People followed Griffith because of who and what he was. Men, women, children… even animals weren’t immune. He was bright and shining, drawing you in however unwillingly. However, always there was a feeling of distance, of some sort of separation that placed him far above everyone and everything else. From the beginning, people followed him. Love him or hate him, the one thing you could never do was ignore him.

Love him or hate him. There was never a third choice.

Until now.

People chose to follow Griffith or to oppose him. He made them choose, never accepting or rejecting, but simply moving forward. You could follow or be treated like just another obstacle… and Griffith had a reputation for the way he dealt with obstacles.

And then there was Guts.

Guts did not want to follow Griffith. He wanted no part of the Hawks or Griffith’s ambitions. He did not wish to oppose them, either. Guts wanted to be left alone and Griffith, shining Griffith, would not accept that.

When Griffith met Guts at the top of that hill, Judeau was nowhere to be found. None of the spectators missed him, not with the sheer intensity and violence of the swordplay and the determination of the combatants.

Judeau had not been there… because he had not wanted to watch.

**

The Band of the Hawk watched the castle fall, watched the invaders press forth and watched, with some amusement, as the giant figure of Bazuso held against all comers.

All but one.

A boy, around the same age as the scandalously young group of mercenaries above him, with a sword that he should not have been able to carry, much less wield. He had stepped forward to challenge the armored giant, and he had won.

Judeau had been there, too…. Watching what little was visible of Griffith’s face as his captain stared down at the brutal conflict below and feeling a shift somewhere behind those compelling eyes. Following Griffith’s gaze, he’d tried to see what it was that drew the other man and had not been surprised that he could not fathom it.

Guts had not been poetry in motion, far from it. There was little of grace in his movements, the weight and length of his sword requiring adjustment that did not allow for much finesse. Strength, he had, in great measure; determination, focus and…

**

Judeau glanced after Guts’ retreating figure, seeing it again even as the other man walked away. The grace was there now, but it was not the subtle grace of a cat. It was the grace of a man who has learned what he is truly capable of, and strives to exceed that every day. Guts possessed a core of steel: unbending, unworkable… he was a weapon, not a tool. He was not content to walk in someone else’s shadow. Not like Caska. Not like any of the rest of the Hawks or, indeed, anyone else who crossed Griffith’s path.

Guts did not want to stand behind Griffith but beside him. He had the strength and purpose to do so, something that no one else had ever displayed. You were either behind Griffith or an obstacle in his path but, somehow, Guts had created a third category.

No…. Judeau could feel his mouth twisting slightly as he stared after the other man. Griffith had created that third category himself, that day on the wall. The shining leader of the Hawks had not realized it, or at least attempted to deny it, trying to treat Guts the way he had all the others. It might have worked, had it not been for Guts’ defiance.

A legend in the making, sealed by a pair of blazing blue eyes and a declaration of ownership… “Mine”. A legend broken by a tall man who wanted more than to be just another servant embracing his master’s dream. A man who had forced his freedom even as his servitude had been won and who was now walking away from them all.

Judeau dropped his gaze back to the snow, wondering what would happen to Griffith, to all of them, now.

**

It hadn’t been random. Judeau was certain of that. While the rest of the Hawks had not noticed his absence from the hilltop drama, he had not gone unmissed. It wasn’t until he had retreated to the tent he shared with Rikert for the night that he realized it, however.

Two steps from his quarters and a hand had closed over his wrist. Jerking reflexively, Judeau swung around to find himself staring into eyes as blue as his own.

“Come with me.”

Five minutes later had found Judeau sitting on his Captain’s bedroll, quietly unpacking the small kit that he kept for occasions just such as this, although he had never used any of the contents on Griffith himself.

Griffith had shed his tunic and was stretched out flat on the bedroll, chin resting on folded arms and staring at the wall of the tent. As Judeau worked some of the ointment into the first of a series of extremely ugly bruises, Griffith finally spoke again.

“Why weren’t you there?” He did not have to be more specific.

Judeau sighed, frowning over the bruises. “Because I didn’t need to be.”

There was silence until he finished with Griffith’s back, but when the other man turned over and sat up, Judeau found himself suddenly the sole focus of those intense blue eyes. “Because you knew that I’d win?”

“Because I knew that he would defy you,” Judeau corrected him softly, cleaning his fingers and producing a small bag from his kit. “Hold still.”

Griffith was forced to be silent as Judeau carefully worked on the marks on his face, but he continued to stare intently at the other man. Judeau lingered as long as he could, not wanting to face more questions but realizing that it was inevitable. The instant his fingers left the perfect, slightly battered face….

“How did you know?”

Judeau shrugged, retrieving the ointment and going to work on Griffith’s chest. “He’s a warrior, not a soldier, you can almost smell it on him. He’ll obey orders only as long as he wants to, or as long as they make sense to him.”

Griffith’s eyes blazed for a brief moment, and Judeau found himself freezing almost reflexively beneath that look. “He’s mine, Judeau.”

He would never forget the words that fell between them next, unsure of why he felt they had to be spoken, knowing he was treading on dangerous ground. “For now.”

The blaze was gone as quickly as it had been ignited and Griffith looked back at him with calm, arrogant assurance. “For always.”

Judeau did not believe it and his hesitation must have showed despite his attempt at keeping a bland countenance as he brought his gaze back to his task. Griffith caught his hand, pulling it away from another of the already darkened bruises on his torso. Judeau stared down at their hands, unwilling to meet those eyes again.

“Do you doubt me, Judeau?” Griffith’s voice was soft and carried a note of amusement.

“Not you,” Judeau admitted reluctantly, glancing up. “The situation, I guess. He’s not….”

Griffith smiled. “He’s not a tame creature. I noticed. I have the marks to prove it.”

Judeau wanted to tell him to be careful, that even tame animals could bite and Guts was in no way ever going to be brought completely to heel. Something in Griffith’s face silenced him, however, and he waited.

“I have plans for Guts,” Griffith told him, eyes sparkling. “It will all come together. You’ll see.”

Judeau did see, or thought he did. He closed his eyes for a moment, suddenly wishing Guts had never appeared. Griffith was showing signs of being an ordinary mortal, prone to human mistakes for the first time. The realization was giving Judeau a funny, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and he fought against it valiantly.

Griffith was unused to blatant defiance and whatever bargain had been struck up on that hilltop was probably not exactly what he thought it was. Judeau had been perfectly honest in his assessment. Guts would obey orders as long as it suited him to do so and not one second longer. Someday, Guts would wind one of those callused hands around the collar Griffith had placed about his neck and snap it.

“You worry too much.” The soft, silky voice was almost directly in his ear and Judeau’s eyes flew open. Griffith favored him with a faint, secretive smile before changing position slightly and brushing his lips against the other young man’s. “You need to stop worrying and just let go….”

**

Judeau continued to stare at the snow beneath his feet. If Guts had revolted then, back at the beginning of it all, things would have been so very different. Even an hour ago, if he had simply snapped his leash and walked away, it all could have been salvaged.

But Caska had told Griffith, had gone running to the young man who was now their Lord and General, and brought him out to face Guts. Judeau had known then that it was over. Griffith had either forgotten or willfully overlooked Guts’ complete lack of ability to compromise. The wild teen had grown up into a dangerous animal indeed and, although he had followed Griffith with unquestioned loyalty, the leash had never been more than a formality.

Griffith had challenged Guts and this time, he had lost. Even Judeau had not really believed that it was possible, their quicksilver commander overmastered by the man who had been his faithful shadow ever since that day on the hill. Grown men now, not the almost-boys they had been, and the aftermath would prove, no doubt, to be correspondingly brutal.

Guts had changed things simply by existing.

Judeau knew that whatever happened next would be as unexpected as the last time… and nowhere near as pleasant. Watching Griffith finally rise from the snow, eyes wild, he could feel his heart sinking. Things were changing already and, without the solid reality of Guts as an anchor, who knew what Griffith might do?

**

“That was a cruel thing to do.” Judeau noted absently that his voice didn’t even pretend to sound accusing.

“It was necessary.” Griffith shrugged off his long coat, letting it fall carelessly to the floor of his bedchamber as Judeau closed the door behind him.

“Necessary,” Judeau echoed, retrieving the coat and moving to hang it. He was not surprised to detect the heavy, choking smell of smoke on it. Not the smoke of an honest wood fire. Not by a long shot.

Griffith nodded, already working at his cravat. His eyes were sparkling in the way that indicated he had done something beautifully dreadful again. This explained Guts’ absence from the chaos that had followed Griffith’s poisoned collapse in the ballroom. Judeau was willing to wager that he was the only one to have noticed the other man’s absence in the chaos that followed, just as he was the only one present when Griffith had pulled himself upright and disappeared.

Griffith had a dream, and the rock solid foundation of his castle in the air was supported on the broad, muscular shoulders of Guts. Everyone knew it, although only Judeau knew or suspected the deeds that Griffith had asked of the other man. Griffith never spoke of them. It was a darkness that he shared only with Guts.

The door of the wardrobe was closed almost on his fingers and Judeau started slightly, jerked from his thoughts. Long arms wound around him from behind and Griffith’s lips brushed his ear. “Still worrying….”

“Yes.”

Judeau was tugged toward the bed, tumbled into it and fallen upon. A graceless, boneless heap of pale limbs sprawled across his body and Griffith’s silver-white hair fell across his face. The heavy, dark scent of the fire that had claimed the Queen’s life seemed suddenly to fill the room, and Judeau almost reflexively wrapped his arms around Griffith – seeing again the graceful form crumpling to the floor of the ballroom, poisoned cup giving a ringing ‘clang’ as it fell beside him.

“You don’t need to worry.” Hot breath against the side of his neck and the body against his wasn’t boneless anymore as Griffith raised himself to his elbows. “It is all according to plan.”

Warm lips pressed against his skin and Judeau gave in, as he always did. Griffith’s star was in the ascendant, and there was truly nothing to worry about….

But it was Guts that Judeau was thinking of when he quit the room several hours later; Guts and the wild flicker that could still be seen in the back of those dark eyes.

**

Much, much later, in a place of darkness and screams, Judeau found himself again unsurprised. Caska close against him, a laboring horse beneath them and the creatures out of every dark nightmare close on their heels.

It had been Guts. All along, it had been Guts.

Judeau had seen it in Griffith’s eyes that snowy night. Seen it again in a darkened pit.

‘Mine.’

And if Griffith couldn’t have him… all of him… then no one would. He would destroy the foundation of his castle, uphold it with will alone, and damn the consequences.

‘Damn us all….’

But somehow, he could not regret it.

Falling, hurting, getting up and moving on. Pushing Caska as hard as he dared, even as the pain grew. Feeling everything growing dimmer, knowing that his time was running out. A memory of warmth and a teasing smile, another injunction to not think about things so hard, and Judeau gently shook his head.

‘I would do it all again, even knowing where it would bring me….’

‘I chose my fate.’

‘As did we all….’


End file.
